


Tales from Time and Space

by Khaelis



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Prompt Fill, Romance, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-03-27 19:05:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13887207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khaelis/pseuds/Khaelis
Summary: A little collection of short stories, one chapter, one story.





	1. Words

**Author's Note:**

> So I've started this collection so I can post all the short stuff I write (<1000 words), because I don't really want to post a different story for each of these!
> 
> It'll be mostly Ten x Rose, because OTP, but I believe some other pairings might be added (probably some TenToo x Rose and Thriteen x Rose).
> 
> I'll try to keep all of them G-Rated, but I know myself and I know this is going to be tough, but we'll see where this goes!
> 
> I'll keep this under "Completed" because I have no idea how many stories there'll be or when they'll be posted.
> 
> Anyway, here goes the first story, opening on some Ten x Rose fluffy goodness!  
> I hope you'll like it, please letme know what you think! :-)

* * *

 

 

 

Nothing had changed. Except everything had changed. He couldn’t quite explain that odd feeling, but it didn’t matter. He didn’t really want to explain it. He was simply thrilled to feel it.

 

When he looked at her, he knew he still had that affectionate look on his face - he could feel it in the way the tension in his eyes faded, in the way the corner of lips twitched into a sketch of a smile, in the way his head slightly tilted to the side as if in search of the perfect angle to admire the divine beauty that she was. She still bit her teeth into her plump lower lip when she noticed him staring, that light blush adding more colour to her rosy cheeks, the quick flutter of her eyelids when she looked away.

 

When he held her hand, he knew he still succumbed to the warmth of her skin and surrendered to the waves of comfort that rippled from his fingertips, turned to huge tides all the way up to his brain and crash on the shore of his sorrow, his fears, his insecurities to sweep it away. She still squeezed his fingers back, brushed her thumb over the back of his hand, let their wrists bump at each swing of their arms. 

 

When he hugged her close, he knew he still had to take a deep breath beforehand, so his lungs wouldn’t burst at their chests meeting or his hearts explode at the heat of her cheek against his. She still clung to the back of his jacket, clasped her fingers on the nape of his neck, breathed heavily in the crook of his shoulder.

 

Nothing had changed. Except everything had changed. When he looked at her, his eyes weren’t fleeting any longer. Her blush wasn’t shy or embarrassed, it was pleased and cheeky. When he held her hand, his fingers weren’t skittish any longer. Her touch wasn’t soft and friendly, it was strong and eloquent. When he hugged her close, his hearts weren’t stuttering any longer. Her kiss wasn’t light and quick on the skin of his neck, it was strong and lingering on his lips.

 

He loved all those feelings. He loved her, and he was sure she loved him back. He was just… Merely disappointed that he had been too much of a clumsy coward to tell her the words. Merely saddened that she had been too much of a timid skeptical to tell him the words. They were at that point, he believed, where it didn’t matter. Actions always spoke louder than words when it came to them and their feelings, and after so long there was no doubt left about their shared passion and devotion. They didn’t need the words. 

 

Rose snuggled closer to him under the thick blanket and her hand went looking for his own as he turned the page of the book he was reading to her - yet another one of their habits that hadn’t changed. The Doctor willingly lent his free hand so she could twine their fingers together, and welcomed the kiss she pressed to his shoulder with a small smile and a fond look. No, they didn’t need words.

 

He kept reading, his voice a soothing lullaby to her ears that would have swallowed her in a deep pit of sleep if it weren’t for the way his body moved as he enacted the actions of the characters. If it weren’t for what she was dying to do.

 

Rose didn’t wait for him to stop reading, thinking it better to catch him off guard. She slipped her feet under his thighs, splayed the hand she had been playing with over his left heart, and poked his chest with a finger. One poke, that was closely followed by a circle drawn over the layers of his clothes, then a few lines, then another circle, then two other pokes. She had spent days in the library to learn the complex symbol and practice drawing it, and she hoped she was doing it well enough for him to pick up its meaning.

 

The Doctor stopped breathing for a few seconds, just as her finger stopped right over the middle of his heart after almost a whole minute of her fingertip sketching the Gallifreyan morphemes. He understood. He blinked his eyes to chase the tears he felt coming and sighed softly, closing his book and putting it carefully on the side.

 

She looked up at him with a shy grin, and he answered with a quiver of his lips. He brought his own finger to the expense of smooth skin revealed by her tanktop, somewhere just above the soft swell of her breast, and drew a simpler but just as meaningful series of circles and dots. The answer she had been hoping for, the answer she had also learnt because she knew him so well she had been sure he would do just that.  _ Me too. _

 

He guided her to his lap as their mouths found each other in a searing kiss, hands going down to grab hips, sneaking up to tug on spikes of hair, chest crushing against other, so close they could feel the steady rhythm of their heartbeats underneath.

 

Some things would never change. They didn’t need words.

 

* * *

 


	2. Insecurities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New one-shot for this series of little stories, based on a prompt found on Tumblr!
> 
> [Prompt-Fic | Tentoo x Rose | Insecurities]

* * *

 

 

He sighed into the palm that was cradling the bottom of his face, staring at the little piece of coral pulsing softly with a dull orange glow. He knew nothing was wrong with the installation he had carefully put into place, from the dozens of cables attached to the coral sending light sparks of electricity to help with its growth, to the nest of minerals he had gathered together so it could feed on low-energy nutrients. He still tugged on a cable to make sure it was properly hooked, pushed a chunk of cobalt with his fingertips, moved a nugget of zircon closer. It would take time before that tiny bit of Tardis flesh would grow big enough to develop a potent enough conscience to take them on trips around the universe, years, probably a whole decade, even. But impatience was already brewing in the pit of his stomach.

 

He stole a glance at the clock he had hung onto a wall of the basement where his makeshift lab had been set up - Rose had refused to let him perform his experiments anywhere near remotely inflammable things, which basically crossed off every room in their small house, thus the basement. His sense of time was still perfectly intact, and he didn’t need a clock. He liked it, because of the sound it made as the seconds slowly ticked away. A harmless reminder that time had never mattered more now that he was growing older, day after day. Only three days since he’d arrived in this universe, three days since he had grown out of that hand, three days since he’d understood what the human part of this body implied. He could feel himself age, the cells dying to be replaced by brand new ones, every time with a little less life inside them. He noticed things thanks to the Time Lord abilities he hadn’t lost. A weakness in a joint, a hair single hair slowly losing its colours, a small wrinkle more in the corner of an eye. Rose couldn’t see those changes happen, and that was good. He didn’t to add that to the pile of growing worries his thoughts were building on.

 

The fact that she wasn’t home yet, among many others. It was well into the sixth hour of the afternoon, and she should have been back approximately thirty minutes back if the traffic was alright, twelve minutes back if the traffic was bad - he had checked and double-checked the route she took and came up with exactly seventeen calculations that gave him the precise range of time it took her to go from work to their house depending on a variety of circumstances. And she was late.

  
  


“Why is she avoiding me?” he murmured into the silence of the basement, brushing a thumb on the coral. “Do you think we went too fast?”

  
  


He almost expected the little Tardis embryo to answer, but it only glowed brighter for a fraction of a second. Still, the sulky temperament that had sprouted in his new-found human side had no trouble interpreting it as a confirmation.

  
  


“It was a bad idea to move in together,” he sighed, letting his elbow slide over the desk so he ended up half sprawled over it. “We should have… I don’t know,  _ dated _ ? Like humans do, you know. So she can get to know me. Well, I’m basically the same, of course, but maybe she doesn't realize that. I mean… She doesn’t love  _ me _ , you see. She doesn't say it, she doesn't show it. This morning she didn’t even kiss me goodbye.”

  
  


One of the wires sparked, a tiny electric arc reaching his finger so fast he jerked his hand away with a curse of pain.

  
  


“I know, alright?” he seethed at the coral, sucking the burnt flesh into his mouth. “I’ve been a pain, I get it. But seriously, this life isn’t for me. I can do it with Rose, but I can’t do it without her. I can’t, I’ll go completely bonkers by the time you hit puberty. She doesn’t want to be with me. She’s spent a grand total of eleven hours and thirty-eight minutes, what does that tell you?  _ Yes _ , I counted, you little judgmental piece of… Of  _ Tardis _ . She spent just under sixteen percent of her time with me over the past three days! Torchwood this, and paperwork that, and where do I stand in all this? What am I, some kind of pet it’s alright to leave alone at home while she goes on her stupid errands? Seriously, I just…”

  
  


He was cut halfway through his angry tirade when a pair of naked arms snaked around his waist, drew him into a hug from behind, and a warm, full mouth planted a kiss on the nape of his neck.

  
  


“Hello, Doctor,” her beautiful voice smiled into his ear.

“Rose,” he gasped as he twirled around in her arms, terrified that she’d heard too much of his vehement protest.

  
  


The apology he wanted to offer died in his throat at the sight of her deep blue dress, the kind of dress he had never seen her wear yet. The skirt stopped mid-thigh, the strapless corset hugged her waist and pushed her breast up to form an impressive cleavage that was made all the prettier by the pendant she was wearing around her neck - he had to swallow a weird squeak when he noticed it was the Tardis key she had brought with her in this universe. 

  
  


“Rose, you look…” the Doctor started, thinking he would never find the right words to describe her beauty. “You look…”

“You don’t like it?” she teased, peering at him though her thick eyelashes.

“I do, Gods, I do, but… Why? What’s the occasion?”

  
  


She bit into her lower lip, a sheepish smile tugging at her lips, and she grasped his tie to pull him on his feet.

  
  


“You’re right, you know,” Rose admitted, running a thumb up his tie, to the small curve between his clavicles then up his throat to finally settle on the dip of his chin. “We haven’t spent enough time together.”

“You… You heard, then,” he grimaced, his shoulder slumping slightly. “Rose, you weren’t supposed to.”

“But I did. You got a few things wrong, though.”

“Did I, really?”

“Oh, yes, Doctor. Let me count them up for you.”

  
  


The Doctor’s breath hitched in his throat when she pushed her against the edge of the desk and moulded her body against his.

  
  


“One, I am not avoiding you. Two,” she paused to press a hard, languid kiss on his kips half-parted in awe, “I did kiss you goodbye this morning, but your head was so far up your bum you probably forgot.”

  
  


He moaned into her mouth when she kissed him again, his hands flying to her waist to find an anchor, his stupid human heartbeat going rampant in his ribcage. Okay, maybe she really liked to kiss him, after all - and he couldn’t exactly deny he absolutely adored kissing her, too. And then, her leg slipped between his, her bare foot caressed his calf and her knee slid up his thigh, and his quiet moan turned into a loud groan.

  
  


“Three,” she murmured against is cheek, trailing her mouth to his ear, her teeth biting lightly his lobe. “It was a very good idea to move in together. Because believe me, Doctor, we have to make up for so many lost opportunities, we’re gonna need to spend quite some time alone, if you get my meaning. Four...”

  
  


Rose brought her hand to his chest, splaying her fingers over his heart.

  
  


“I know it’s you, my Doctor,” she kept going, drawing the symbolic shape of a heart across the pectoral defined under his tight shirt. “There’s no him. There’s you. Just you. And five…”

  
  


Her cheekiness had only paved the way to a much deeper, sweeter feeling, and she tenderly cupped his face in both her hands to stare into his shiny chocolate eyes.

  
  


“I love  _ you _ ,” she smiled, putting the same emphasize on the word  _ you  _ as he had on the word  _ me _ . “I always have, I always will. I’m sorry the last few days have been hectic, Doctor, but there was so much to do. I’m sorry I was away from you, but I did it for  _ us _ . Here, look at this.”

  
  


The Doctor watched as she produced a small plastic card from behind her back and waved it under his nose.

  
  


“Your brand new ID, Doctor, so you can work, go out and basically live a normal life until your baby Tardis is all grown up. That’s why I’m wearing this dress. That’s the occasion. I want to take you on a date tonight. Celebrate the start of  _ us _ , if you like. How does that sound?”

“Oh, Rose,” he could only whisper, unable to believe she had managed to crush down all of his worries within a short span of two minutes when they’d been brewing in the pit of his stomach for days. “That sounds… Wonderful.”

“Yeah?” she asked with a tongue-touched grin, loving the way his eyes gleamed with a sudden happiness.

“Oh yes,” he confirmed, drawing her into a quick hug before he grabbed her hand and made her spin around on her feet - she pretended to lose her balance, letting herself fall into his arms with a merry giggle. “I love you, Rose. I’m sorry I doubted you.”

“S’alright, Doctor, I know. Come on, go change into a proper tux, Mister Smith, we’re gonna be late.”

“Hm, Smith… “ he mulled the name on the tip of his tongue. “Rose, this might sound a bit silly, but… Would you mind just calling me Doctor when it’s just us? No that I don’t appreciate you getting me this but…”

“Of course I can, Doctor,” she smiled, perfectly aware of the reasons why he wanted her to use this name. “Now go.”

“Right, yes, date,” he nodded with an excited grin, planting a quick peck on her cheek. “Be right back, love you.”

“Love you too, Doctor.”

 

* * *

 


	3. Piano Girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ten x Rose
> 
> Another short story about how the Doctor and Rose got together!  
> Nothing fancy, written in less than 30 minutes, but I think it's cute!
> 
> I hope you'll like it!

* * *

 

 

Once she was sure he was busy in the console room to fiddle with his cables and tinker with his components, Rose withdrew into her room. Not her bedroom, but her  _ room _ . She firmly believed the Doctor didn’t even know about this room, believed the Tardis kept it away from his prying eyes, and believed everything that happened in this room would never get past its walls. She closed the door behind her, locking it with a soft click, just in case, and she smiled. She loved this room. It was a small room, a serene, muffled atmosphere induced by the few spotlights, the dark blue carpeted floor, the foam-covered walls that offered just enough sound isolation. She didn’t want him to know what she was up to in that room and she didn’t really know why. It was her secret. And she would share her secret when he would share of the many he owned himself. Especially that secret she had accidentally learnt about. He thought she didn’t know, but she did. So, she would share her secret when he’d finally confess how he felt for her. She would share her love when he’d decide to share his.

 

Rose sat on the comfortable leather bench, put her foot on the right pedal, placed her fingers on a few keys. And she started to play.

  
  


***

  
  


Once he was sure she believed he was busy in the console room and had scurried away in her room, the Doctor silently walked up to the door. He sat against it, drew his knees against his chest, closed his eyes. And he listened. He knew she didn’t want him to know, but he had never been able to resist the temptation ever since he’d heard a short string of notes a while back. He loved it. He would have never guessed she could play so well, but everytime she did, he felt transported to another world. Her music was both soft and powerful, sometimes slow and soothing, others quick and overwhelming, but he always had the same reaction. A slightly faster heartbeat, a slightly quicker breath, a slightly higher blood pressure. Fingers drumming the rhythm over his thighs, eyes squeezing in tandem with the loudest notes, mouth closing and opening to whisper lyrics that didn’t exist. 

 

That night, when he squeezed his eyes, a tear fell from a corner. Because, that night, she wasn’t playing music, she was playing emotions. And he could feel to the last tremolo flowing through a single note what those emotions were. The music stopped. And he knew. 

  
  


***

  
  


The morning later, Rose stared at him, a hint of suspicion etched in the frown that darkened her eyes. He cleared his throat with a sheepish shrug, and stopped humming the song she had been playing the night before.

  
  


***

  
  


Their fingers twined on the armrest between their seats, his thumb brushed the inside of her wrist, hers brushed the back of his hand. They both knew there was nothing friendly about that gesture in that moment. She shivered when the Doctor slightly bent to speak into her ear, so his voice wouldn’t be drowned by the piano song echoing in the concert hall.

  
  


“I like it better when  _ you  _ play,” he whispered, nose nuzzling a strand of blond hair.

  
  


Rose smiled, and turned her head into his palm that cupped her cheek. When he kissed her, she knew there was one more secret they wouldn’t have to keep.

 

* * *

 


	4. Holding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ten x Rose
> 
> Written for the doctorroseprompts weekly drabble: Hold
> 
> Very short piece, approx. 600 words, but I hope you'll like it! :)

* * *

 

 

There would come a time, holding would stop being enough. And there would come a time, holding would start getting too much.

 

It had started with innocent hand-holding - if he wanted to be perfectly honest with himself, which he didn’t, he would have had to admit even hand-holding had never been quite innocent. The first time their fingers had twined, the first time he had felt the affection under her skin and the comfort that came with a simple brush of her thumb. That was the first time he had felt it. The guilt. The guilt to feel his stomach swoop and his hearts stutter, the guilt to see their hands so tightly tangled he had been unable to properly feel and see where his started, where hers ended. Not as separate body parts, but as a whole. And when her fingers detached from his, he always felt like part of him was ripped away. But he could deal with it. He knew their hands would find their way back to each other, sooner or later. 

 

And then, the hugs had started, and whatever pretense of innocence he could muster with hand-holding became a mere fantasy. When he held her close, when he felt her chest against his, her heart hidden under the layers of clothes and skin and bones, he felt alive. It was her heartbeat he was feeling, but somehow, the notion that they were two separate bodies didn’t make sense. No, he was alive because her heart was beating. And that was precisely why holding her tight, hugging her close, melting deep in her body was growing dangerous. Because when she stepped back, he always felt like he was dying a little. But he could deal with it. He knew their bodies would eventually find each other again, and she would breathe new life into it.

 

Because he knew how hugging felt, hand-holding was never enough. Not enough contact, not enough heat, not enough feelings. He needed the hugs.

 

And then, they had kissed. Many times, many different ways, many places. But the constant with those kisses was the way they held. Sometimes it was just a gentle palm on a cheek, sometimes it was a crushing embrace, both amazing, both terrifying. But they always held each other close. And that was when the hugs began to feel like they weren’t enough. He needed more. What more meant, he didn’t know.

 

Until they found themselves tangled between the sheets and he realized what his body and his mind needed. More, as in her naked body against him, and her beautiful mind wrapped around his. He realized simple holding wasn’t enough any longer. He also realized holding had been too much, way too much, ever since they had held hands for the first time. He had given in. He had given up. And when she’d be gone from his life forever, he knew he would remember the comfort of her fingers around him, the life of her heart against his, the love of her mind through his. He would remember, and blame himself.  _ It was too much _ .

 

But in that moment, as she kissed him, hugged him, clasped her fingers around his, he decided he didn’t care much. She wasn’t gone, yet. It wasn’t too much, yet. Barely just enough. No, not even enough.

 

* * *

 


	5. Breathe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for a prompt.
> 
> Sorry about the angst. So sorry.

* * *

 

 

His lungs were like balloons squeezed too hard, too fast, that burst to shreds to release the air the wouldn’t fit through the hole. He felt them. Full, swollen, compressed inside a ribcage that as nowhere big enough. His throat, narrow, dry, that could only gulp down small intakes of fresh air that only made his failing organs strain harder against his ribs, grow heavier, bigger, absorb his hearts into a viscous paste of flesh and hinder their wild beating. Soon, his lungs would explode. And his hearts would stop to beat.

 

His jaw hung low, his tongue darted out to moisturize cracked lip, his stomach heaved, a vain attempt to chase the surplus of air, his abdomen contracted, a futile exertion to force a breath out, but it was no use. Not with that kind of prison. A thick straitjacket, the straps pulled so tight he couldn’t feel his hands any longer, apart from the thousands and thousands of fire ants crawling up his fingers, up his arms, up his shoulders, up his head. A head swarming with a loud buzz, like angry bees droning through the tiniest blood vessel. It might have been the lack of blood circulation, or the lack of oxygen feeding his brain. Both, neither. It meant the same. The only words his last thought had hooked into.  _ She’s gone _ . Those were the only words he could hold on to.

 

The pain started, soon. Not much, at first, just a tickle at the back of his neck. But it grew, fast, exponential. A headache that sprouted in the depths of his brain, a sickness that seized his stomach and made it push harder in violent retaliation against the lungs he knew were starting to crack under the pressure.  _ She’s gone _ . Why were these the words he was thinking of when they only turned the pain to torture, he didn’t know. A thought of  _ she _ , a fleeting image of blond hair and full smile, and a desperate moan echoed in his throat without getting out. A thought of  _ gone _ , a tears fell from his eyes, depriving him of the few oxygen he had left in his dying body.

 

And then, he felt it. The cold hand on his cheek - maybe the hand was warm and his cheek burning. The sound of a murmur - maybe it was a scream and his ears were beating too loud with the blood rushing through his veins. A pressure between his hearts, between his lungs - maybe it was nothing, just the feel of his organs finally giving up.

  
  


“Look at me.”

  
  


His eyes shot open and were met with the blurry picture of  _ she _ . Same blond hair, same smile. Deep brown irises that looked at him without the panic he was sure reflected in his, without the pain his cried profusely to wet his cheeks and his dry lips. Her hand, splayed over his chest, drawing circles like spells that stopped his ribcage from collapsing over itself.

  
  


“Look at me. Just breathe, okay?”

  
  


He blinked, hard, and forced his chest to follow the up and down of her hand. He latched onto her words, those words he desperately needed to replace the truth hammering against his skull.  _ She’s gone. Breathe. She’s gone. Look at me. She’s… Breathe. Just breathe. _

 

The pain faded, little by little, just as his lungs deflated, little by little. A seething breath, scorching, that had boiled for far too long in the confines of his ribs, but that was slowly expelled through his constricted throat. He was able to take in some fresh air, a small shot of oxygen that was just enough to keep certain death away. Just enough to reignite the system that must have shut down in his sleep again. The more he breathed, like she had told him to, the less he saw her face, the less he heard her words, the less he felt her hand.

 

Soon, he was breathing again. He hurried to untangled his limbs from the sticky web of sheets and covers glued to his body, covered in sweat and tears and drool, kicking them away his his feet in a fit of anger, with a fit of coughs, letting the cold air roll on his skin.

 

A nightmare, again. Or so the lingering taste of horror on the tip of his tongue and the images flashing before his eyes, the excruciating love soaring between his hearts and the sorrow imbibed in his stomach proved. But just a nightmare. 

 

_ She’s gone _ . 

 

No. 

 

_ Breathe _ .

 

He rolled to the side and buried his nose in the pillow next to his.  _ Breathe _ . He did. He breathed, and breathed, let the sweet smell fill his nose and soothe his aching lungs.

 

* * *

 


	6. Hips

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little fic prompted on Tumblr!
> 
> Yet another Ten x Rose first kiss, not much but well!
> 
> I hope you'll like it! :)

* * *

 

 

Oh, she was properly furious. Not only had she him pinned against the wall for the eighth time since they had started travelling together, if his memory served him right, but it was the first time she was threatening to whack his head with her shoe. A pretty polished black heel - well, the heel was broken, only hanging at the end of a brave thread of glue. And its twin was lost, left behind in a dark street. Shame, he rather liked those shoes. Well, not the shoes themselves, but how they shaped the muscles of her toned legs. And how they made her tall enough to steal glances at her cleavage without her noticing. And how she walked,  _ sashayed _ , when she was wearing them.

  
  


“You had to, didn’t you?” she seethed, pressing her forearm at the base of his neck.

“I can’t breathe,” he choked as his nails scraped the wall behind him.

“Serves you right, teaches you how to keep that gob of yours shut.”

  
  


Oh, she was properly furious. It wasn’t the first time she’d had to run away from a horde of angry guards, but it was the first time she’d crashed down on the wet pavement because of a stupid heel. Of course, he’d have to drag her in an alleyway of rough slabs, of course she’d have to get stuck, of course he’d have to keep pulling on her hand despite her protest, and of course she’d have to fall. They had escaped, that was good. Better than expected, given he was accused of an offense punishable by death. 

 

Still, she was furious. It had been a perfect night. Some dancing, some drinking, lots of flirting, lots of teasing. The kind of night she believed could have change the status of their relationship from platonic friends to… More, whatever that word could mean to the Doctor. She was furious because her shoes were ruined, because her dress was ruined, because the perfect night. But mostly because they had been about to kiss, and the moment had been ruined, too. Well, kiss. Probably. She thought so. It certainly wouldn’t have been the first time, because they’d been tiptoeing on that tight rope for ages. They’d been dancing for two songs, the tension had built, their looks had grown heavy and dark. He had smiled at her, not the kind of goofy grin she was used to, but a soft, tender smile that had pinned her in her shoes almost as hard as she was pinning him against that decrepit wall.

 

But then, he had gotten closer, he had entangled his hands from hers and splayed them on her hips. That was when things had gone to Hell.

  
  
  


“I thought that law was going to be passed at least a millenium in the future,” he wheezed - and only when his eyes got covered with a thin layer of tears did she released a bit of pressure.

“Haven’t you learnt to double-check yet?” she muttered angrily, giving him another hard shove.

  
  


Because, for whatever reason, this stupid planet considered touching hips in public a criminal offense. Trumpets had echoed in the whole ballroom and within seconds an army of little yellow men crowned with horns had been on their heels. He had tried to save them, claiming loud and clear they were just friends. It only had made the offense much worse - friends weren’t allowed to even touch, or so she had understood from the outraged murmurs. 

 

They had had to run, again. She was used to it, because running was just a mandatory step in her daily life. Except, usually, she didn’t have to run in heels and a tight dress. They’d vene had to run faster than usual, because he had deemed necessary to snatch a chocolate eclair sprinkled with icing sugar on his way out and comment on its taste, thus losing precious seconds. Said eclair had left a think line of icing above his upper lip, and while she was furious, she had trouble looking at anything else but that lip she had been about to kiss mere minutes before.

  
  


“I’m sorry,” he apologized as he moved his hands to her wrists, keeping the shoe away from his face, loosening the pressure on his throat. “In my defence, may I say you are partly to blame for this.”

“Oh, am I, now?” she mumbled, doing her best to stop looking at that icing she wanted to suck from his mouth. “I’m not the one who let my hands wander, thank you very much.”

“No, but my hands wouldn’t have wandered if you weren’t so… So…”

“So what, Doctor?”

  
  


He felt his cheeks warm up as he remembered her face, her eyes, her smile, just when he had been about to capture her lips. She had been beautiful. She still was beautiful, even with her mad frown and the thunder in her eyes. Especially since she kept licking her lips all while staring at his.

  
  


“As if you don’t know,” he huffed, tearing his eyes away from the face that caused him so much trouble. “You just keep seducing me and teasing me like you want me, and tonight you made it particularly hard, okay? All laughy and smiley and sexy, and yes, I took you to that ball because I was hoping you’d finally let me touch your hips if the mood was right, and yes, I touched your hips because I thought it was, and no, I didn’t know touching your hips was punishable by death, but on second thought, I’ll probably die before I find the right mood and the right place to finally touch your hips anyway, so it doesn’t really matter, does it? And that’s presuming you’ll actually ever want me to…”

  
  


Before he could finish his thought, she shoved him again, hard. Not against the wall, but towards her, and her mouth crashed against his in a searing kiss. It was deep, hard, tongue clashing, teeth clacking, lips fighting. He supposed it couldn’t be otherwise after letting the tension build for so long. He rather liked it. No. He loved it. And his hands found their way to her hips again. Oh yes, he was finally touching her hips. She moulded her body against his, broke the kiss to mumble something about icing, assailed his mouth all over again and slipped her hands under his shirt. He groaned, low in his throat, she moaned, loud through her nose. 

 

He couldn’t wait to go back to the Tardis to touch more than her hips. 

 

* * *

 


End file.
